


Bandages

by Bubbly_Kandy



Category: Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aunt Polly Really Loves Tom, Gen, Graphic injuries, He really is hes just violent, Huck is a Cutie, Hugging, Tom is a Sweetheart, alfred also almost says the r slur, i guess?, just warning yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 22:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19327054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubbly_Kandy/pseuds/Bubbly_Kandy
Summary: Also known as: "Tom gets into a fight defending Huck's honor and then goes home and gets affection from Aunt Polly"





	Bandages

Tom hate, hate,  _ hated  _ Alfred Temple. He hated his stupid face and his stupid freckles and his stupid outfits and his stupid voice. He hated his friends and family, and he hated Alfred’s finger that pointed at him and called  _ his _ Huckleberry a no-good, waste of space ratbag.

“He ain’t!” Tom yelled, wanting to bite Alfred’s finger off. “My-”

“He is too!” Alfred yelled back, Tom seething. “He’s uneducated, un-”

_ “He is not!” _ Tom felt his hands curl into fists, imagining how Alfred’s face would look punched in. “He’s smarter than you  _ ever  _ will be, you flapdoodle!” He heard a gasp from around him, from the dense ring of kids that were all ready for a fight.

He saw Sid out of the corner of his eye, Ben and Joe flanking the younger boy. Sidney looked nervous, tugging at his shirt anxiously. Ben and Joe looked about ready to jump in and help Tom take Alfred down.

“He ain’t got a family,” Alfred taunted, his smirk making anger bubble in Tom’s stomach. “His mama’s dead as a nail, his daddy’s a drunk-”

“Shut up!” Tom yelled, his ears starting to ring.

“ _ And  _ he’s sick in the head!” 

“He ain’t sick in the head!”

“Yes, he is!” Alfred smiled evilly, his hands resting easily on his hips. “Bumblin’ around, actin’ slow- admit it, Thomas! He’s just some kinda reta-”

Tom screamed, launching himself at Alfred and knocking him to the ground. He slammed his fist into Alfred’s nose, watching in satisfaction as blood began to pour out of it. Alfred grabbed his bangs and pulled, ripping out some of Tom’s hair before Tom hit him in the face again, making Alfred lose his grip. Kids cheered and screamed around them, though Tom could barely hear them over his blood pounding in his ears.

“Don’t you ever talk about my Huckleberry or his mama like that  _ again!”  _ he yelled, smacking Alfred’s face  _ hard _ and making his hand sting painfully. He felt someone grab his wrist, but he yanked it away as he hit Alfred again. “You snivelling, pathetic, little-!”

He suddenly was lifted off the ground, his armpits having hands under them. He got a final kick in on Alfred before he was carried away, struggling to see who was carrying him. “Young man, that’s enough,” Mr. Dobbins snapped, Tom going limp in the man’s arms. “You’re lucky your brother came and got me-”

“That snitch!” Tom raged, beginning his struggle again. His teacher set him down, spinning him around and shaking him until he was sure his eyes were rolling around in his head. 

“Thomas Sawyer, use your brain for once and  _ think!”  _ Dobbins stopped shaking him, Tom looking over his shoulder at where the battle had taken place. The ring of kids were still there, and now there were one other teacher, along with the principal. His teacher grabbed his chin, bringing his attention back to him. “You could’ve-”

“I didn’t  _ kill _ him,” Tom said, his stomach beginning to roll as his teacher’s glare made him uneasy. He shook his face out of Mr. Dobbins’ grip, starting to frantically explain. “He called Huckleberry Finn sick in the mind, Mr. Dobbins- Alfred called him retar-” 

“I don’t  _ care  _ what he said, Thomas!” Mr. Dobbins said angrily, Tom’s eyebrows knitting together. “All I care about is whether or not Alfred Temple is  _ dead,  _ because of you!” Mr. Dobbins hit Tom over the head, the sting making Tom feel like he wanted to cry or run away. 

He chose the latter option, ripping his wrist out of Mr. Dobbin’s grip and sprinting away from the man as fast as possible. His feet pounded on the ground as blood pounded in his ears, barely hearing Mr. Dobbins and the other kids yell his name. He didn’t stop running even as his legs and chest began to burn, his arms beginning to ache. 

He was soon halfway through the woods, his mouth open wide as he gulped in breaths, his legs aching terribly. He still kept up his pace, running and running until-

_ BAM!  _

He shrieked as he tripped and fell onto the ground, his left knee landing first, the gravel ripping up his knee. His left arm hit the ground next, getting scraped from his wrist to his elbow. Both areas began to hurt, all of his adrenaline leaving him as he laid on the ground. His big toe, once he looked at it, was bleeding at the place where it could bend, his toenail already red. Other places began to hurt as well; the place where Alfred had pulled on his hair hurt, his hand stung, and his chest ached from the lack of air he had been getting. 

He lay on the ground, his whole body hurting as his mind replayed what Mr. Dobbins had said. Tom felt his stomach roll again, his eyes burning painfully as his lip wobbled. 

“I didn’ kill him,” Tom said, making a fist with his right hand and hitting the ground. “I didn’ kill ‘im, Mr. Dobbins was jus’ jokin’...” He hobbled to his feet, noticing that he ripped a large hole in the left leg of his pants. He rubbed his face roughly, biting his lip as it kept on shaking. “I didn’ kill him,” Tom told himself again, starting to walk toward the town, trying to keep his stomach where it was.

He soon got to the town, limping his way to his house. He kept his head down, jamming his hands in his pockets and hissing once he remembered his brutal road rash. Tears welled up in his eyes again, like if he were a baby, but he valiantly swallowed them back as he limped to the house.

He finally got to the front door, rubbing his nose and eyes. He shuffled his feet nervously, hoping that she'll just open the door and see him instead of him having to open the door himself. 

Minutes passed- his hopes of Aunt Polly opening the door and saving him a bit of embarrassment were dashed. He rubbed his nose again, biting the inside of his cheek as he weakly opened the door. 

"Aunt Polly?" He called, his voice creaking and breaking as bad as a weak, wooden plank.

"Why are you home so early?" Aunt Polly snapped, Tom closing the door behind him. The woman came out of the kitchen, her expression immediately changing from irritated to borderline terrified. "What  _ happened _ to you?!" She gasped, taking Tom's hand out of his pocket and inspecting it. Tom hung his head, his lip quivering again as she began to pull him toward the kitchen, beginning to lecture him. "Thomas, what have I told you-"

"I got hurt, Aunt Polly," Tom said, his eyes watering and spilling over to his cheeks. The woman looked down at him, kneeling in front of him as he sobbed "I got hurt real- real bad, Aunt Polly!" 

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, putting her cool hand on Tom's hot cheek. He leaned into it, deciding that he was all done with being tough for the day. He wrapped his arms around Aunt Polly's shoulders, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, the soapy scent of her dress surrounding Tom. "Poor dear- come now, let's get you cleaned up." 

She picked Tom up, albeit with some struggle because Tom was 7, now, and shouldn't have to be picked up. Still, he let her do it, his arms hanging down her back limply. She carried him to the washroom, setting him on the counter.

"How'd this even happen, Tom?" She asked, readying a cotton pad with alcohol. Tom shrugged, giving over his arm to her. 

"I tr-  _ ow,  _ Aunt Polly!" He whined, yanking his arm away as she set the cotton pad on it. 

"Tom," she said warningly, Tom relinquishing his arm again to her and flinching as she cleaned his scrape. "You were saying?" 

"I tripped." Tom said simply, watching in fascination as the blood from his scrape bubbled when the alcohol was washed over it. 

"You tripped." She repeated, Tom nodding. "That's all that happened?" 

"Yes'm." Tom hummed, trying to make it seem like he wasn't hiding something. Aunt Polly raised an eyebrow at him, but she didn't say anything else. She wrapped his hand up in a bandage, moving on to his knee. 

"You have a rock stuck in your knee." Aunt Polly sounded like she was laughing, Tom looking down closely at his knee and seeing that there was, in fact, a pebble in his knee. Aunt Polly pulled it out easily with a pair of tweezers, dousing a cotton pad with alcohol again. She took the liberty to firmly hold Tom's leg in place before she began to clean the wound, the precaution proved necessary as Tom kicked his leg in pain. He boldly held his tongue, his eyes prickling with tears.

Soon enough, his knee was bandaged, along with his big toe. Aunt Polly lowered him back onto the ground, Tom testing out how well he could move around when he was ¼ of the way to becoming a mummy. 

"May I get a snack, Aunt Polly?" He asked politely, the woman smiling down at him and waving him off to the kitchen.

"You've already been through enough today; just don't take more than one!" She called as he eagerly headed to the kitchen, one leg stiff as the other's toe was restricted from bending. He grabbed three cookies from the cookie jar, cramming one into his mouth and immediately feeling much, much better. 

___

Tom inspected his right hand, wondering how he could hide the black and blue markings from when he slapped Alfred. Sid slept peacefully next to him; the kid, surprisingly, hadn't snitched on Tom and his fight with Alfred. He had only told Aunt Polly that Tom had gotten upset at lunch, then ran home; fitting perfectly with Tom's alibi. 

As Tom thought, he heard a miserable cat start up its racket;  _ shut up, you old thing, _ he wanted to yell, but he also didn't want Sid to wake up and decide to tell Aunt Polly why Tom  _ really _ came home early. Tom kept his mouth shut, but the cat just kept going. It soon got louder and louder, Tom covering his ears in annoyance, until the yowling was so close it was right outside his window. 

A sharp rap on the glass caused him to look at the window, his heart beginning to race as, instead of a cat, a  _ face  _ was pressed up against the window. Tom nearly fell out of his bed; then he realized that the face belonged to Huck Finn. 

Huck bared his teeth at him as Tom got up; he made his way to the window, his odd gait not going unnoticed by Huck. Tom opened the window, hopping out with some struggle onto the roof. 

"What took y' so long?" Huck whispered harshly at him, Tom closing the window as much as he could. "I's near woke your neighbors again!" 

"Sorry, Huck." Tom sighed, picking at his bandages as he sat on the roof. Huck sat beside him, pushing his hand away from the fabric.

"Don't do that- it makes it harder t' heal," Huck told him, Tom sitting on his hand. "Why do you need those?" 

"I tripped," Tom said, Huck humming and nodding. "I was runnin,' and I tripped." 

"Runnin' home after you licked Alfred Temple?" Huck innocently asked, his head tilted to the side. Tom's heart began to race again, and his head snapped to look at Huck. 

"How'd you know that?" 

"Sidney told me." 

"Sidney went and found you?" Tom asked, picking at his bandage again. Huck pushed his hand away, again, then said,

"Nah, I's found 'im. He was all in a flurry 'bout you, he told me all about you fightin'..." Huck lightly snapped his fingers so that Tom would look at him. "Thanks. For fightin' for me." 

"I  _ had  _ to, Hucky!" Tom burst, Huck's eyebrows raising. "Alfred Temple was all actin' like he was better than you, actin' like you ain't as good as him…" 

"Well, I don't blame him." Huck shrugged, leaning back and looking up at the stars. "He's got everything I ain't." 

" _He_ ain't got _anything_ on you!" Tom said passionately, about to jump up but being restricted by his bandages. "You got more personality, more character, more fun in your _pinky toe_ than he's got in his whole entire body!" 

"You think so?" Huck asked quietly; his eyes sparkled as Tom nodded eagerly. "Aww, thanks, Tom." 

"You're welcome!" Tom said loudly, then remembered what Dobbins had said- "Did I kill 'im?" 

"Mm?"

"Alfred. Did I kill 'im?"

"Oh, nah." Huck scoffed, waving his hand. "He's alright- scuffed to high hell, but alright. You did a real number on him, Tom." 

"Oh. That's good." Tom fidgeted with his fingers, swinging his feet. 

Soon, Huck could see that the moon was sinking- the two boys said goodbye, and Huck went down the lattice as Tom snuck back into his bedroom. Tom laid in bed, a heavy weight lifted off of his chest. He went to bed easily; now that he knew he wasn't going to be held accountable for murder, his heart felt a whole lot lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u enjoyed!


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